


Walk Into the Light With Me

by Cara252



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Pining, just two boys being idiots and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 15:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20909669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cara252/pseuds/Cara252
Summary: In the few moments of silence that enveloped them Dimitri felt the barrel in his hands burn out, felt like he won-- and then Claude grinned, forest green eyes shining like Dimitri had never seen before- like the sun, far too bright and warm for the cold river that Dimitri usually saw in them. Had his eyes always been that mesmerizing?“Well,Dima,” Claude said, voice silky and smooth as he emphasized the nickname in a way that could only be described as positively obscene. “If that is what you want who am I to say no?”-Drawn in by the light like a moth to a flame, Dimitri burns and crashes. But as he lays beside Claude, the rays of morning sun warming both his body and soul, he thinks it was all worth it in the end.





	Walk Into the Light With Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be 1k words about them cuddling, and I have no idea what happened.

It started out innocent enough.

But now, as he stands in front of Claude’s door, he asks himself if he let this _thing _they have, go on for far too long. Longer than Dimitri ever deserved, that was certain. And yet, he wishes- as he digs his nails into his left forearm, willing himself to stop shaking, **stop shaking- **to see that handsome smile directed at him just once more. Not the cold mask he always wore, but his truly genuine smile, reserved for private nights in the library, for secret meetings at dawn when no one else was awake just yet, when no one else was looking. He wishes to prove himself worthy of spending time with someone whose light floats so far above his own, a light Dimitri can never hope to reach from the dark pit he fell into.

_You’re not worthy of anything._

He wants to protect that light, the one that is only ever visible when Claude is truly happy, when he doesn’t hide his emotions behind a mask of fake contentment. Whenever his eyes would shine so brightly, when his lips would curve into a softer, curly line rather than his usual stiff one. It is easy for Dimitri to lose himself in the hope that still resides within Claude’s heart, especially since his own faded so long ago.

_You can’t protect anybody._

He knows he can’t. The bitter truth sticks to him like his nightmares do. They haunt him at night- just as they did only a few minutes prior- reminding of his failures; the lives he failed to protect, the lives that were lost trying to protect him, and the ones who were brutally executed for a crime they did not commit, merely because he was unable to persuade those in power of who was truly to blame. Because he was unable to do _anything._

_You don’t deserve to live._

His father, his mother, his best friends. They all died that day. Mangled, beheaded, burned to only ashes and dust in the eternal crimson flames, falling to the ground like fresh snow. A torture he watched happen, one he remembers so vividly as if it happened yesterday, instead of being a victim to it himself, like he should have been. He should have died with them.

_You should have._

And now the only thing he has left of them are the broken voices in his head. Demanding that he avenges them. That he joins them. Dimitri deserves no less than to be their puppet on a string, for that was his duty as the sole survivor of the tragedy. A duty he will fulfil, no matter what.

_You don’t deserve to live. You should have died with us._

He doesn’t even notice that the fist he once raised to knock at Claude’s door fell back to his side, that tears are slowly cascading down his face. He comes to the conclusion that the best thing he can do for Claude is to stay as far away from him as possible.

_You’re not worthy- You can’t protect- You don’t deserve- You should have died with us._

Dimitri turns and leaves.

* * *

It started when Dimitri first defended the young von Riegan heir in public.

The Blue Lions had just returned from a mission in kingdom territory, hearts still heavy from both the discoveries they had made and Lord Lonato’s untimely death. Dimitri still saw Ashe’s miserable expression when he closed his eyes, the poor boy’s spirit utterly broken and in complete distress. An expression Dimitri never wanted to see on his face ever again.

From his own experiences he knew exactly what it felt like to lose a parent, and knew how insignificant blood relations were in the face of a truly deep, familiar bond made over years of trust and love. To lose the person that bond was forged with in the matter of a few seconds could only be described as devastating.

So, when Ashe’s fury and sorrow had turned into quiet acceptance, his feet dragging across the ground as he walked, it had hit a bit too close to home. Exactly for that reason had he let Ashe take his white steed back to the monastery- had even insisted that Ashe ride her when he had at first refused, arguing that he, as a commoner, couldn’t just take the prince’s horse.

In the end, Dimitri had taken on the entire trip back by foot, the fact that Ashe’s leg had been injured and that he was limping, if only slightly, being his winning argument to force Ashe to accept his offer. Dimitri had been through worse after all, he could manage.

Therefore, it was a bit embarrassing for him to admit that perhaps he had overestimated himself a little, especially after taking that nasty hit from Lord Lonato’s lance on his hip and an arrow to his shoulder, which he had also quite carelessly ripped. Mercedes had scolded him about it thoroughly- though with a tone as gentle as ever, only a hint of anger colouring her voice as she berated him like a disappointed mother- after the battle while she was patching him up. For both ripping out the arrow and trying to hide his bruised hip from her.

Ultimately his frustrations about being unauthorized to take the throne until he was of age consequently leading to a lack of power over and knowledge of Kingdom business had been stoking the coals that lit his fire, driving him forward on their march and keeping fatigue at bay. But now, once they were back, and he was unsaddling and brushing Faina’s snow-white pelt to cleanse out the dried patches of blood and dirt, the embers had died out. Like he knew they eventually would. His bones and muscles ached as anger gave way for fatigue, grief and regret to seep into his body like a deadly poison.

He thought, that perhaps he should skip evening practice and retire to bed early today, even if he wasn’t especially fond of breaking routine.

At least that was his plan until three other students came to stables to presumably take their shift, gossiping so loud while they worked that Dimitri was unable to block them out. Like they wanted to be heard. Or like they had not seen him as he was soon to find out.

At first, Dimitri didn’t care all too much about it since it wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence. He’d heard it all before.

It wasn’t until they started talking about Lord Lonato, then Duscur, then Dedue- because of course the rebellion would cause rumours, would open old wounds, would give them another reason to hate and throw around insults like the ignorant lot they were,_ of course it would, why wouldn’t it_\- and eventually broadened into such an unbelievably ridiculous amount spiteful discrimination that Dimitri almost crushed the currycomb in his hand.

He set down the brush- for both the safety of the comb and the three idiots who dared to lose slurs about Dedue in his presence, mind you- and left Faina’s box, still mindful enough to close the gate gently as not to scare her. Behind him he heard the topic shift once more, and he was certain that they were actively insulting someone now, albeit not Dedue.

Instead it was Marianne who had unfortunately found herself victim to their- to Blue Lions students of all things and Dimitri swore he was_ about to combust-_ hatred.

They called her cursed, a bad omen and a threat to everyone around her, and even from the other side of the stables Dimitri could tell that Marianne was taking everything to heart, unwilling to defend herself. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all, didn’t attempt to leave. She just stood there, taking all the slander with her head bowed.

Dimitri could feel his scorched flames catch fire again.

Yet before he even made it halfway across, Marianne’s house leader, Claude, had appeared from around the corner- he swore their gazes had met, only for a second, _he swore- _and put himself between her and the three bullies, seemingly trying to pacify the situation. He wore his usually handsome smile through all the malicious comments that were now being directed at him, but there was something about it that made the hairs at the back of Dimitri’s neck stand on end.

It was as cold as Faerghus itself.

“Hey there, let’s calm down and talk this out like civilized people. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding.”

“What would an outsider like you know about it, _von Riegan_? You just appeared from out of nowhere. Everyone knows you don’t belong here.”

“It's better to let someone think you are an idiot than to open your mouth and prove it, you know.“ Apparently, it had been the wrong thing to say as the tallest of the three grasped Claude by his uniform’s collar, almost lifting him from his feet as they pulled him in. Claude’s expression was full of venom as let himself be dragged in without a fight.

“You’ll regret running that mouth of yours.” The bully raised a hand and-

\- Dimitri stopped the fist before it even got close enough to collide with Claude’s face, grabbing the bully by his wrist and twisting his arm downward to immobilise him.

The reaction was instantaneous; the bully cried in pain and surprise, letting go of Claude, who in his own shock would have fallen backwards to the ground had Dimitri not steadied him by the shoulder. Dimitri gently moved Claude behind him and towards Marianne, positioning himself directly between them and their three attackers. Only once that was done did he release the bully from his hold.

“Y-your Highness, we can explain!” All three took a step back, stuttering out excuses as Dimitri stared them down with the intensity of a lion watching its prey squirm. _He really wasn’t in the fucking mood for this. _Because they _knew_ that he had zero tolerance for this kind of thing and they _still _dared to do it behind his back.

“I don’t want your excuses,” he said, having a hard time controlling his voice from how infuriated he was. It had been a long day. There was blood oozing from his shoulder into bandages who needed to be switched already, he was covered in grime from head to toe, his body protested against every single movement, and all Dimitri honestly wanted right now was to take a bath, maybe have some Chamomile tea, and to fall into his bed _and sleep. _

“I want you to apologise, to leave and to reconsider your actions while I figure out a more fitting duty for you to attend to. And by then you will hopefully have learned not to harass other students or so help me Seiros.”

There was no room for argument in his voice, cold and commanding. Later he might think that perhaps he had been too harsh on them, but not right now, definitely not right now. The things they said- that wasn’t fucking ok, alright? Anyone with common sense knew when to hold their tongue, no matter who the person was. Especially if that person was another student. Or the **_heir_**_ to the Leicester Alliance._

After the three students muttered apologies- he knew they weren’t sincere, he was oblivious, not stupid- and scurried away Dimitri heaved a sigh, rolling his shoulders to relieve the stiffness. He flinched when the motion worsened the pain.

That was something he could deal with later.

“Are you two alright?” he asked, turning around and watching as Claude played with his braid, seemingly deep in thought. His usual grin was back now, though not nearly as cold it was still empty, only made of a carefully calculated mask rather than honest emotions. One that fooled many.

It didn’t fool Dimitri.

“Only thanks to you, your Princeliness,” Claude chuckled, “you really saved me from a sore face there. Pretty sure that would have hurt for at least a week or so. Can’t say the same thing about my pride though, sadly.” Claude shrugged, glancing over to Marianne. “We’re still grateful though. Right, Marianne?”

“Yes, ahh… th-thank you, Dimitri.” Her words were as quiet as a whisper, her head bowed and her eyes still trained on the ground. That didn’t really deter Dimitri though. Marianne always came to visit the stables, especially in the evening, so he had talked to her quite a few times over the course of the last few months. It wasn’t hard to figure out that she had trouble keeping a conversation or making eye contact.

That was also how he knew not to touch on the subject of the insults she had received earlier. She never did react well to that.

“I’m glad,” he said, shooting both of them a smile. “If you’re looking for Dorte, the healers decided to put him in a new box towards the other end of the stables.” Marianne raised her head a little to look at him, eyes creasing with worry. “Do not worry, it is nothing serious I assure you. One of his hind legs got injured so they’re keeping him somewhere it can heal without getting infected. I’m certain he wouldn’t mind some company though.”

If Claude also caught the hint of a smile on her face, he did not comment on it.

“Of course, thank you for telling me.” She turned to leave but stopped, spun back around and made a small bow. “Have a nice evening, Dimitri, Claude.” And then she darted off.

Claude’s thoughtful hum brought his gaze back to meet the Claude’s own. “Wow, your Princeliness, never took you for the charmer. Something I should know about as her house leader?” A playful wink accompanied the comment as Claude threw an arm over Dimitri’s shoulder, leaning on him- into him. Dimitri flinched slightly from the contact, taken a back from the sudden close proximity, but he let Claude do as he pleased. It took him a second to realise that Claude was only jesting. So much for not commenting.

Dimitri chuckled awkwardly.

“It is nothing like that, I assure you.” It only occurred to him now that Claude was leaning on his injured shoulder, which was beginning to ache from having to partially carry Claude’s weight. The pain must have actually shown on his face as Claude immediately removed himself from Dimitri, eyeing his shoulder with curiosity.

“Wow there, your Highness, that’s a lot of blood.” Dimitri looked down to see that his wound had bled through his uniform to form a dark, red patch. He had already discarded his armour so there was no chest plate to hide the stain on the dark cloth. Yeah, that definitely needed switching. “Mind to share what exactly you did to have it bleed that bad?” Claude asked with a raised eyebrow, grin replaced by something that Dimitri almost dared call concern.

“It is nothing,” he said with a sigh, knowing he still had a long evening ahead of him, “I merely ripped out an arrow despite being aware of the consequences.” Claude pulled a face at his answer; the corners of his mouth drew downwards and his eyebrows knit together as if he were recalling a painful memory.

“Ouch. That isn’t exactly the smartest thing you’ve done so far if I may so myself, your Princeliness.”

“No, I suppose not...” Dimitri mumbled, a little ashamed to be caught like this.

“It really shouldn’t be this bad though. Did you not get it treated?” Claude met his gaze once more, face as guarded as ever. Still, there was something else there too, something Dimitri couldn’t quite name.

“I did, actually. I must have accidentally opened it once more,” he said honestly, grimacing. Mercedes’ disappointed look flashed before his eyes as he contemplated on how to proceed from here. He certainly could not go to her. Feeling like a properly chastised child once per day was enough, and he really could not bear to see her make that face again.

“At any rate, it is nothing you have to worry about.” Dimitri shakes his head, smiling at Claude regardless of the cramp working its way up his arm. “I will get it taken care of once I’m done with my chores for today-“

“Hold up,” Claude interrupted him, moving around to block his way. “You can’t seriously be suggesting doing anything with those kinds of injuries. I’d stake everything on the fact that I’m not the first one to tell you that too, honestly.” A frown found its way onto Dimitri’s face again, Ingrid’s angry expression and her lecture about ‘self-care’ still fresh in his mind. “You should probably be on bed rest.”

“There’s still too much to do for me to rest just yet,” Dimitri said, shaking his head. He mentally revised his checklist; groom the horses, carry the broken weapons to a blacksmith, bring back new resources, visit Rhea to give his report, _write an angry letter to his uncle_, check up on everyone- well, anyway, there was still a lot left to do.

His head pounded from an oncoming migraine and Dimitri rubbed his temple with one hand.

“I don’t think I have to tell you that running around with an open arrow wound doing goddess knows what can cause serious nerve damage.” Silence enveloped them for a moment as Claude smiled at him again but- Dimitri was… unsure of how to categorise this one. It was quite a bit more mischievous than usually, for one. “Why don’t you let someone else do it for you? I mean, you’re the crown prince of Faerghus.”

Dimitri felt like he was handed a blazing barrel about to blow in his face.

“I’d rather do it myself,” he confessed, but realising how that must have sounded quickly added, “but not because I don’t trust anyone else to do it! I just don’t want to bother anyone if I can do it myself.”

“And that retainer of yours- Dedue if I remember correctly? Does he not always insist on helping you out?” If anyone were to ask Dimitri who Claude reminded him of the most, the only appropriate answer for him to give was to compare the schemer to the Cheshire cat always sneaking around the monastery grounds.

“Dedue is here as a friend and not a vassal, even if he insists on acting as one.” Dimitri heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, recalling their last interaction concerning said topic. “I don’t want him to ignore his own health for my sake, he does that far too much already.” When he opened his eyes and met Claude’s gaze once again, he was surprised to find him frowning. Dimitri had never seen Claude look so… confused.

So that was not the answer Claude had been expecting from him. Interesting.

“Listen, Claude,” he said, catching the Claude’s attention once more, “I do not know what you are after, but I assure you, you’ll get there much faster by being upfront with me.” Claude, for all his careful planning, patience and composed facade, actually looked taken aback. “Oh, and please do call me by my name. There is no need to be so formal, we are all equals here after all.”

In the few moments of silence that enveloped them Dimitri felt the barrel in his hands burn out, felt like he won-

\- and then Claude grinned, forest green eyes shining like Dimitri had never seen before- like the sun, far too bright and warm for the cold river that Dimitri usually saw in them. Had his eyes always been that mesmerizing?

“Well, _Dima_,” Claude said, voice silky and smooth as he emphasized the nickname in a way that could only be described as positively obscene. A shudder ran down Dimitri’s spine, heat pooling in his cheeks. _He liked that, goddess, what was wrong with him._ “If that is what you want who am I to say no? So, here’s my proposition. I take care of your most urging duties for today so that you can get your shoulder fixed and healed, and in return you help me out with something of my own choosing. How’s that sound?”

Dimitri thought it sounded like a trap.

“Depends on what exactly you would require my assistance with.” Claude’s grin only broadened at his inquiry. It openly revealed just what Dimitri was getting himself into, which is exactly why he couldn’t believe that he was actually about to take him up on the offer.

“Oh, I don’t know yet. I’ll think of something,” Claude said nonchalantly, twirling his braid with two nimble fingers.

“If I agree to this,” Dimitri sighed, “will you promise me to come up with a reasonable request?” The way Claude’s face lit up at his sort of agreement made Dimitri’s heart stop in his chest. And his blood run cold.

“Of course. It pains me to see you think I would stoop to such lowly tactics to get a favour from you. My name isn’t Hilda, you know.” A hand was placed right above Claude’s heart as he faked a shocked gasp. Dimitri huffed a laugh.

“Taking on your chores for the next week sounds like the last thing I should be worried about.” And yet relief surged through him as he motioned for Claude to follow him, leading him to Faina’s box. “In any case, I agree to your terms. If you could comb through Faina’s pelt, take the broken weapons to the blacksmith and buy a few recourses from the market I would greatly appreciate it. Only if that isn’t too much, of course.”

“Sure, no problem.” When Faina peaked her head out to greet Claude with a whine he chuckled and stroked her snout. “Now you go take some rest or I’ll have to tell one of your friends that you’ve been running around with untreated injuries.”

“Please don’t.”

“Better get going then, your Princeliness.”

“Alright, alright.”

Dimitri collected his lance and threw the dirty towel he had used to wipe mud from Faina’s pelt over his injured shoulder. That way his friends wouldn’t see the distinct dark red spot on his uniform.

“Regarding the incident from before, please don’t hesitate to come to me if any of the Blue Lion students harass you or your friends again. And do not listen to what they say. They like to spout a lot of nonsense.” He smiles at Claude once more, and Claude returns it with one of his own. “Don’t let them convince you that you don’t belong here. No matter who we are or where we come from, we all have a right to be here.”

Claude’s expression faltered only for a split second. Dimitri did not catch it.

“Well then, have a nice evening Claude.”

“Same to you, _Mitya._”

Dimitri desperately tried to suppress the blush on his cheeks as he walked off.

It was only once Dimitri was lying in bed that he realised Claude had turned their conversation completely in his favour, even despite Dimitri’s ever-present caution about the tactician’s schemes.

Claude was going to be his end.

* * *

It continued when they next spoke to each other.

He had seen Claude a few times here and there since their last interaction at the stables, but he had never had much time for conversation between classes, training and duties that he had recently been able to pick up again now that his shoulder was properly healed. Therefore, most of it had come down to polite greetings in the halls, small exchanges and a few attempts to figure out Claude’s still awaiting request on Dimitri’s part- with no luck at that too.

Hence, he had not expected for Claude to sneak up on him during his nightly research in the library. In fact, he had been so engrossed in his book that he had been completely unaware of Claude’s presence until he had felt hot breath ghosting over his neck.

Dimitri jumped in his seat, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

“Who-“ He spun around, hand on his dagger- “_Claude_.”

“Hey there, your Princeliness.” And Claude laughed, genuinely laughed. Dimitri felt his irritation fade as the sound rung like bells in his ears. “Whatever could you be doing out this late at night?”

“I could ask you the same,” Dimitri said, closing the book and laying it on the desk, hand placed over it.

“Sure, but I asked first.” Claude took a chair and set down beside him, resting his elbow on the table to support his chin on one hand.

“I don’t intend to let my secrets slip this easily, you must know.” An involuntary smile snuck on Dimitri’s face. “You will have to try a bit harder than that I’m afraid.”

“Eh, it was worth a try,” Claude said, shrugging. “But I accept your challenge.” The chair screeched quietly when Claude pushed it back to stand up, shooting Dimitri a wink. He strolled around the nearby shelves and seemed to be looking for something in particular.

Dimitri watched silently, fascinated.

The grin on Claude’s face slowly morphed into a more serious expression. His lips pressed into a thin line, his eyebrows furrowed and he squinted as he scanned the shelves, eyes turning into small slits. One hand fiddled with the braid in his hair, always twirling it around his index finger, while the other rested on his hip. Claude’s darker skin almost glowed golden in the candle light.

Abruptly Dimitri realised he had been staring. He ripped his own book open, perhaps a little more forceful than needed and stared at the letters. He wasn’t able to focus enough to read and understand what was written though, far too caught up in his thoughts. Claude was handsome, Dimitri could admit that easily, had heard many others admit it too. But that didn’t warrant all the staring, did it?

He was ripped from his thoughts when he heard a grunt from his left.

Claude was standing on his tip toes, arm stretched to the very limit as he tried to grab a book from one of the higher shelves. His fingers scarcely touched the edge of the binding. When Claude fell back on his feet with a huff, Dimitri chuckled and stood up, quickly putting his own book back in its place.

“Here, let me help you.”

Dimitri walked up right behind Claude and reached for the book. He was taller than Claude by half a head so he grabbed the leather binding without much issue, pulling it from the shelve.

“Thanks, your Princeliness.” Claude spun around and leaned into Dimitri’s space- _oh goddess, that’s **close. **_Ignoring the rising heat in his cheeks, Dimitri handed him the book and Claude took it, their hands brushing.

But Claude didn’t back up. And Dimitri stayed where he was as well. Both of them unwilling to lose their current game.

“Speaking of help,” Claude chuckled, “I finally thought of the request I promised.”

“Y-yes?”

“Remember our upcoming Lord exams?” Dimitri nodded, lost for words. “Close combat isn’t exactly my specialty, to put it nicely. I prefer to be at long distance with my bow. And that is exactly where you come in.” Claude took another step forward, eyes half lidded- _and dear Seiros, that’s way too close. **Holy fuck. **_“I could really need your assistance with my sword training, Mitya.”

“Y-yes, I’d like- I mean, of course- I mean-“ Dimitri looked to the side, trying to gather his thoughts. “If that is what you require of me, I won’t say no.”

“Good, good. How about Sunday morning this weekend?”

“Yes, that sounds agreeable.” A hand landed on his upper arm, warmth seeping through the fabric and into his skin. Dimitri held his breath.

Claude hummed a small, unfamiliar tune, pleased. “It’s a deal then.” Still, neither of them moved from their spot, neither made to leave and end their conversation. Dimitri wasn’t quite sure what to think of their proximity. It wasn’t that he was opposed to physical contact or the like. He simply wasn’t used to it anymore. And Claude invading his personal bubble on a regular basis was something else entirely, especially when he gave Dimitri _that look._

“Well, I got to get going now, your Princeliness. Books to read. Sleep to catch up on.” And then Dimitri made the mistake to look back, meeting Claude’s mischievous gaze once more, and before he knew it, Claude leaned in and_\- Cethleann and Cichol give him strength-_ placed a chaste kiss on his jaw.

Dimitri instantly reeled back, blush spreading from his cheeks all across to his ears and neck. “C-Claude!”

Claude was already heading towards the exit of the library, shaking from laughter. “Good night, Mitya. Don’t stay up too late.” He waved the book as he left Dimitri to himself, disappearing behind the corner of the doorway.

Dimitri laid his hand on the spot where he felt Claude’s lips touch his skin. That was- that was-

He had kind of… liked that. He thought. Maybe.

Honestly, he wasn’t really sure what was happening in his life anymore. Or what Claude was truly up to. What all _that_ was about. Or what Dimitri was supposed to do about it.

He just knew that he, perhaps, for whatever reason, kind of wanted Claude to do it again.

Even admitting that made his stomach do a weird flip. He didn’t understand where this all came from or what exactly _this_ was. Sure, Claude was charming, smart and kind. He had a wonderful smile, beautiful eyes, a handsome face and fair skin. Even if he was a schemer out to rip them off their secrets, he was always nice to everyone, commoners and outsiders such as Dedue included.

But why would that-

\- wait.

…Oh.

Oh no.

He was a goner.

* * *

It took on a whole new direction when Dimitri met Claude’s request as he had promised.

So, he may or may not have developed a crush on Claude. It was fine. That was normal for teenagers, he told himself, completely normal and irrelevant. He could deal with a small crush. It would fade away and things would return to how they used to be and Dimitri would stop staring at Claude’s lips, would stop how they had felt on his skin-

\- who was he kidding? Things could only get worse from here on out.

The sun had barely risen when Dimitri arrived at the training grounds, Claude coming in only a few minutes later. It was Blue Sea Moon which meant that even at this early hour it was already relatively hot outside and therefore far too warm for someone like Dimitri who had lived in an icy hell for the majority of his life.

Hence, he had discarded his jacket and armour, leaving him in only his sleeveless blue shirt. In truth, he felt just a little exposed under Claude’s intense gaze.

“Isn’t that a bit too chilly?” Claude raised an eyebrow. His eyes shamelessly scanned over Dimitri’s skin, always lingering on each and every scar. And he had a lot of them.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Faerghus has much colder temperatures all year around and it snows at least 9 months a year. Practically speaking this is already summer for me.”

“Sounds like a harsh place to live in if you ask me.” Dimitri wanted to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat when Claude shot him a pointed look. “I’m not complaining though.” Blushing was quickly becoming Dimitri’s standard reaction to everything Claude said, and he both loved and hated it.

It was finally time to turn the tables.

“Shall we then?” He tossed Claude a practice sword and took one more for himself. Claude effortlessly caught it by the handle.

“Ready when you are, Mitya.”

Dimitri took his position and waited for Claude to do the same. Claude’s stance was correct and the way he held his sword was also fine, so it couldn’t he couldn’t be that bad, right?

Over the course of their match Dimitri realised that Claude’s sword skills weren’t as horrendous as he had made them out to be. At the beginning, Dimitri held back and strictly concentrated on not putting too much force into his swings. But he soon realised that such restraint wasn’t exactly necessary as Claude easily parried and knocked back every strike he attempted.

Thus, he started using more of his strength and Claude adapted by simply blocking and ducking under them. It forced Dimitri to be more defensive than he usually liked to be. Because Claude knew he couldn’t match Dimitri in his inhuman strength and instead focused on abusing every opening he saw. Dimitri struggled to match Claude’s swift strikes more than once.

That being said, Claude still made a lot of obvious mistakes. Especially his footwork seemed to fall back into that of an archer’s rather than a swordsman’s quite often. His grip on the sword hilt also wasn’t quite what it ought to be. Dimitri was no sword master by any means, preferring his lance by far, but Claude hadn’t been joking his lack of practice in close combat either.

He left himself open for attacks far too often.

So, when Claude came running at him for another thrust to his stomach, Dimitri moved his foot in front Claude’s to trip him and used Claude’s shock to knock the sword out of his hands with a clean strike of his own. Claude hit the floor with a loud thud as his sword clattered across the stone, and Dimitri was above him in less than a second. He pushed Claude down with a hand on his chest and held his sword to Claude’s throat.

“You need to be more careful when you’re closing in on someone to attack. Always watch your defense,” Dimitri panted, trying to catch his breath. He removed his hand from Claude’s chest to let him breathe properly and placed it on the ground beside his head instead.

“Thanks for the advice, your Princeliness,” Claude said and grunted in discomfort when he touched the back of his head.

“Did you hit your head?” Dimitri put his sword down and reached for spot Claude’s hand was hovering over. “If so, I am very deeply sorry. It was not my intention to hurt you.”

“It’s nothing, really-“ He didn’t believe Claude’s excuses and gingerly turned his head to inspect the damage himself. There was no blood, at least. But if he actually hit his head it would at least throb for an hour or so. “Getting bold, aren’t we, Dima?”

He hadn’t even noticed that Claude had gotten strangely still beneath him. His breath got stuck in his throat when he met Claude’s brilliant green eyes. Their faces were close enough- _too close, **closer**_\- that Dimitri could count every single gold dot surrounding Claude’s iris. Could count his freckles- did he always have those- and every single eyelash.

“Claude.”

Claude's eyes flickered to his lips and back to his eyes.

“Dimitri.”

Tension sparked between them when Claude reached for the front of Dimitri’s shirt and pulled him down slowly. They stopped shortly before their faces met, close enough that Dimitri could feel Claude’s hot breath tickling his skin. Their eyes met again and a silent permission to continue passed between.

Claude didn’t waste any time as he locked their lips together.

Dimitri let his eyes fall closed and leaned into the kiss. It was messy and unexperienced and their noses bumped more than a few times, but it was perfect all the same. Claude sighed into the kiss, snaking his free hand into Dimitri’s hair and fisting it. Dimitri suppressed the moan crawling up his throat.

The hand still grasping Dimitri’s shirt twisted and pulled him even closer, until their chests were touching. Dimitri moved his arms to support himself on one elbow so that he could lean down further and cup Claude’s cheek, fingers teasing the short hairs at his neck. In response he felt teeth nipping at his bottom lip. A shudder ran down Dimitri’s spine. He hesitantly returned the favour, savouring Claude’s gasp against his lips.

When they finally parted due to a lack of air, they were both panting breathlessly. They stared into each other’s eyes and the only thing Dimitri could think of at moment was how Claude’s face was flushed, how his lips were puffed up and parted as he breathed. How his eyes were shining with raw emotions, for once not hid behind a locked door. Dimitri liked what he saw in them.

Claude broke their gaze, hands falling from Dimitri’s form to the floor.

All of a sudden, he realised that he was still caging Claude with his body and quickly stood up. He awkwardly brushed the dirt of his pants before he reached out hand for Claude to grasp and pull him up. Once Claude was safely standing on his feet again, Dimitri immediately let go and took a few steps back to create some space between them.

“My apologies, C-Claude.”

“Nothing to apologise for, Mitya.” Claude met his eyes again and smiled. Dimitri thought his eyes were tricking him because Claude almost seemed shy. “But I don’t think I got the grip on close combat just yet. What do you think of making this a daily thing?”

“Yes, I’d like that very much,” he breathed without hesitation.

“Good, good. I’ll see you at breakfast then.” And then Claude rushed out of the training grounds before Dimitri could say anything else. No grin. No wink. Nothing.

He won. He actually won their little game for once but-

\- that certainly was not what he had meant when he thought of turning the tables. However, that didn’t mean he disliked the outcome. Not in the least.

Later, when Dimitri met up with the rest of the Blue Lions in the dining hall, he noticed that Felix was being particularly grumpy. The others must have seen it as well since Sylvain asked him about it once they were all seated. Felix only grumbled something about muffled screaming coming from the room beside him- from Claude’s room- and waking him up “way too fucking early” in the morning.

In truth, Dimitri was worried for Claude at first. Just like his friends he looked around to spot a glimpse of him. However, Dimitri’s concern faded when he saw Claude animatedly chatting with his own classmates, appearing to be completely fine. Claude must have sensed their staring because he twisted around. When Dimitri met his gaze, he saw Claude’s cheeks flush a bright red, felt it happen to his own too when Claude shot him a grin and a wink.

They both turned back around without another word. Dimitri buried his burning face in his hands, refusing to answers any questions or inquiries made by his friends.

* * *

And it spiralled completely out of control from that point onward.

Claude would consistently invite him to have tea, to train together or to just “have a moment of his time”. Dimitri always agreed if he could. And that was most of the time. Somehow their little game had turned into something more, but they never spoke about what _it _was.

As far as he knew, only he and Claude knew what those invitations ensued, and up until now he had preferred to keep it that way.

But recently his friends had picked up on the fact that he was spending more and more time with Claude. So much that Sylvain had teased him about secretly making out like the good friend that he was definitely **not at all. **Truly, he regretted ever telling Sylvain about his simultaneous preference of both men and women.

More so when Sylvain adjusted their arrangement from “I wanna see you with a girl on your arm” to “I wanna see you with _someone_ on your arm _today_”. The way he had nudged Dimitri’s side had made it all too clear what Sylvain had meant, and for a moment Dimitri had actually considered knocking the life right out of him.

And that was how he found himself staring at Claude’s feet after their daily instructions, his face completely on fire.

“You want to what?” Claude laughed.

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

“Let me make sure I got this right. You want to carry me to lunch because Sylvain challenged you to arrive with _someone on your arm._ You do know that that is just a figure of speech, right?”

“Yes,” Dimitri said. He had been around Sylvain enough to know about these sorts of things and not to take them literal. “And Sylvain is aware of that as well. He’s not expecting it or for me to arrive with someone at all. That is exactly why I wish to do it.” It was also partially an excuse to touch Claude, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Could it be that you are trying to one up him? Am I rubbing off on you, your Princeliness?” Claude laughed again. “Getting to sit on those broad shoulders of yours is a win of itself so count me in.” Dimitri really wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole. “So, how are we going to do this?”

“Stand with your back towards me.” It surprised him how Claude turned around without an ounce of hesitation. “May I?” His hands hovered above Claude’s form.

“Course.” Claude grinned at him from over his shoulder, obviously quite pleased with the situation. Dimitri grabbed Claude’s left arm with his own, using his right to sweep Claude’s legs out from under him and having him sit on it. “Whoa there, Mitya.” He gently lifted Claude onto his shoulder, making sure he was well seated and enclosing Claude’s thighs with his forearm, hand carefully holding him down. “I knew you were strong but I think this tops my expectations.”

The other students stared at them like they were crazy and Dimitri probably was, considering what he was about to do. Or was already doing, for that matter. “Are you comfortable?” he asked, looking up at Claude.

“Very much. Let’s get going already. I can’t wait to see their faces.” Claude laid a hand on Dimitri’s neck to steady himself. “This is gonna be good.”

There were a few close calls with some low doorframes as he carried Claude to the dining hall, but most of them were luckily high enough to walk through without much trouble. Dimitri tried very hard to pretend like he didn’t notice that they just became the very centre of attention in the entire monastery.

Once they entered the dining hall, Dimitri instantly felt his friends’ eyes on him. And Claude who was still sitting on his shoulder with the smuggest grin he had ever seen on his face.

There was no going back now.

Dimitri reached up and gently put Claude on his own two feet again, hands lingering on his hips. Claude spun around and smiled up at him reassuringly before he gave Dimitri a small peck on the lips. Behind him he heard a chorus of “ohhh”, some cheering and a snort- _that’s definitely Felix._

“See you later, Mitya.” Claude winked at him and left for his own friends, getting immediately swarmed and punched on the shoulder by Hilda. Her expression was a mixture of shock and excitement as she roped Claude to their table, probably to squeeze out every bit of information she had missed out on.

Dimitri didn’t want to stare at Claude further and turned to his own friends instead.

“Gross,” Felix muttered when he reached their table. That was all he said and therefore, Dimitri took it as his approval.

“I admit defeat, Your Highness. You’ve beaten me at my own game.” Sylvain laughed and raised his hands in surrender.

“It’s time to see to your end of the bargain then, Sylvain.” Sylvain groaned in response, leaning back in his seat. Dimitri sat down on the free chair between Dedue and Ingrid.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Your Highness?” Ingrid asked with that worried and overprotective tone of hers. “If this is just a game to him…” Dimitri shook his head.

“I assure you Ingrid, we’ve moved well past that part. You need not worry.”

“If you say so. Still, I’ll make sure he knows exactly what awaits if dares to play with your feelings.” Ingrid huffed and glared at Claude’s back for a moment. “Later.”

“Agreed.” Why was the only thing Dedue and Ingrid could ever find common ground with always Dimitri’s protection?

“Oh, come on Ingrid, Dedue,” Annette chirped up, “didn’t you see how they looked at each other. You can’t fake that.” Annette turned her attention to Dimitri and smiled so wide that he was sure it must hurt. “I’m so glad for you two, Your Highness. You’re going to make a great couple.”

There it was. That word- that relationship he hadn’t fully come to accept yet. Even if he went around sucking Claude’s face in secret.

“I couldn’t agree more. I’m so happy for you, Dimitri.” Mercedes patted the back of his hand, smiling like an angel.

Everyone looked to Ashe who hung his head and was eerily quiet for his usually upbeat personality. Even from the other side of the table Dimitri could see how red his face was.

“Well, anyway,” Sylvain said, “seems like Ashe won the bet.” Ashe buried his head in his arms.

“What bet?” Dimitri asked carefully.

“Oh, you know, I told them about our little agreement and we made bets about who you would hit up. Or not at all. Even Ingrid did.” Ingrid glared at Sylvain and he leaned away from her. “And Ashe guessed you would take Claude.”

_How did he-_

Ashe’s head shot up.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness. I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t. I just came to get my bow- I mean at the training grounds. I forgot it the evening before. I swear I didn’t mean to spy. I’m so sorry.”

Dimitri spend the rest of his meal reassuring Ashe that he didn’t have to keep apologising about something he clearly didn’t have control over and- _no, Ashe, it’s fine, I assure you. Please stop apologising._

He met Claude a few times throughout the day, but the last time he saw him was in the dormitory hall when Dimitri was about to head to bed.

“Calling it a night, Mitya?”

“I would advise you do the same, Claude. It is quite late already.” He placed a sleepy kiss to Claude’s temple as he passed him. No reason to hide things anymore, right?

“Is that your way to invite me to your bed?” Claude asked, but he didn’t give Dimitri the chance to respond. “Just kidding, your Princeliness. I promise not to stay up too late.” He lovingly nuzzled Dimitri's nose with his own and left, presumably heading for the library.

He went to bed that night the happiest he had been in the past 4 years, the biggest smile on his face. But happiness never did linger with him for long.

All at once his past mistakes came crushing down him like a bucket of ice-cold water in the form of nightmares from which he woke in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. Familiar voices filled his head, drowning out any other thoughts, pleading, insisting, **commanding. **Memories of torture playing in front of his eyes again and again and again. Dimitri couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t move.

_You should have died with us,_ his stepmother said, sad and patronizing at the very same time. _Come and join us. We miss you._

And yet somehow, he still found himself standing in front of Claude’s door, fist raised to knock and the request to spend the night in his room heavy in his throat.

* * *

“Mitya?”

Dimitri freezes mid step at the familiar voice, eyes still trained firmly on the floor in front of him. Fate always had it out for him, he felt, like a snowstorm following his every move. Dimitri could turn direction, again and again, but the storm would always follow him everywhere he went, nipping at his nape. Hence, it really should not come as a surprise to him that, when he did not dare to knock and come to Claude for comfort, fate would adjust and find a way to make Claude come to him.

_You don’t deserve this. **Leave.**_

The sound of careful footsteps ring throughout the dark, empty hallway of the dormitories, and from how quiet they are at first Dimitri can tell that Claude must have been standing at the top of the staircase at the other end of the hall. For a split-second Dimitri muses what Claude could be doing outside his room this late, with a candle still lit in his room no less, before he quickly wipes his eyes, unwilling to let his friend see his tears.

**_Weak._**_ Do you truly think he would be fooled that easily, boy?_  
  
“Ahh, Claude…! What are you doing outside at this late hour?” he whispers as not to wake the others, turning around to face Claude who is only in his nightclothes and boots with his cloak thrown lazily over his shoulders. He tries to mask the way his voice cracks around the end of his sentence by coughing into his hand.

Claude merely smiles at him, although it seems strained. There are dark circles under his eyes, his hair is messy and uncombed, the strands which are usually braided neatly are now falling into his unusually pale face. When Claude comes to stand only an arm’s length from him, Dimitri can tell that Claude looks almost as dead as Dimitri himself feels.

“I could ask you the same, your Princeliness,” Claude says teasingly, raising one neatly trimmed eyebrow, “it isn’t exactly a common occurrence to see the stern Prince of Faerghus himself breaking his strict sleep schedule.” There is something else Claude wants to say as well, telling from how he bites his tongue to hold back the words.

Glowing green eyes watch him carefully, waiting patiently for the answer that Dimitri isn’t sure he can give, yet also failing to think of an excuse to hide his true intentions. Somewhere in his heart, he knows he should thank the goddess for this opportunity at seeking comfort after he denied himself the first time.

He really does not wish to sleep alone in his room tonight. But the fear of Claude denying him his strange request, is far too embedded in his head to form any such question. The chance that it could ruin what they came to be is far too high.

** _Monsters_ ** _ don’t need comfort, only the weak do._

“Mitya, I know I’m a sight to look at, but staring is rood, wouldn’t you say?” Suddenly ripped out of his own thoughts, Dimitri finds himself blinking to readjust his focus. Dimitri flushes a bit for more than one reason, letting his head fall and his gaze wander from Claude’s eyes to the floor between them. He pretends to find the carved stone floor more interesting than Claude’s handsome face. Only now, on his way down, does he notice that Claude is holding a tea pot in both hands.

“My apologies Claude, it was never my intention to stare.” In all honesty, he was looking through Claude rather than staring at him, and based from the look Claude is giving him, he knows as well. _The damned tease._

But even now, he finds himself lost for words to fill the heavy silence between. One not even Claude seems to know how to fill with his sharp wit and tongue. It makes Dimitri wonder why exactly Claude looks as roughed up as he does, and why he is carrying a tea pot with steaming hot water back to his room at what can be considered well past midnight. Perhaps Claude has nightmares too? Or is he just a restless sleeper?

_Perhaps a weakling, just like you._

At some point, Claude begins quietly humming a small tune, reminding Dimitri of his presence. Despite his better judgement, Dimitri raises his head to look at Claude’s face. His smile faded somewhat, replaced by a more serious look that Dimitri never actually saw Claude make before, nor ever expected Claude to make around him so openly. He seems almost contemplative, and Dimitri feels that this is slowly treading into dangerous territory. If he doesn’t leave now, he muses, then they might cross a line that Dimitri wasn’t even aware existed until now.

_You wouldn’t want the poor boy to see who you really are, would you, **boar? **_

“Perhaps I should head back to bed, I’ve already held you up for far too long.” Letting his gaze hit the floor once more, Dimitri makes to turn and leave, even if it means staying up for the rest of the night. He shouldn’t have come out here in the first place. “Good night, Clau- “

“- now hold up a second!” A strong hand grabs his forearm- for some reason it stings, the touch spreading up his arm like a small wildfire, and before he knows it Dimitri hisses in pain. Claude immediately lets go of him, and now both of them can see the red spots on Dimitri’s shirt sleeve, sticking out against the royal blue even in the darkness. _When did he…?_ “Damn,” he hears Claude whisper, though he cannot pick up on what Claude mutters under his breath shortly after.

“It’s nothing,” he says with the steadiest voice he can manage, and covers the wound with his other hand, “just a scratch.” It’s an obvious lie. Dimitri has no idea how that happened. He can only guess that he hurt himself when he gripped his arm to calm down- must have gripped so hard that he punctured skin. In a sick kind of way, Dimitri thinks the injury is justified. And if presses down on it, enjoying the pain that shot through him, then that is no one’s business but his own.

_Make it worse. Make it worse. **Make it worse. Make it wor-**_

“Ok, listen.” Dimitri barely hears the words, but he nods regardless. His arm burns as he claws at it as if it were a lifeline. He listens desperately for Claude’s voice between roaring in his head and the pounding in his ears.

** _Do not dare to igno-_ **

“You don’t have to tell me why you were outside in the hall in the middle of the night or why you were standing in front of my room or why you’re bleeding.” Dimitri’s head shoots up as he turns to stare at Claude with big, mortified eyes. A tiny smirk stretched across Claude’s face in response. _Oh goddess, he had seen Dimitri trying to- to-_

** _LIST-_ **

“But how about the two of us sit down in my room, drink a cup of tea, and you let me fix up that arm of yours? Because I highly doubt either of us wants to actually go to sleep right now.” Claude shoots him a half-hearted wink, gesturing to his room with his free hand. Dimitri wants to die. “So, how about it, _Mitya_?” Then again.

“Ahh, yes, I’d like to- I mean, that sounds agreeable,” he says hastily before he has the chance to change his mind. To his own embarrassment, he feels that his cheeks are on fire, and that a relieved smile spreads across his face at Claude’s invitation. He cannot care less though when Claude goes to open his door and waves his hand as a sign for Dimitri to follow him inside.

The room is a complete mess. Books are scattered everywhere; piled up on his desk and dresser, laying on his floor and bed- how does he even sleep like that? Claude’s bedsheets are on the floor as well, his pillow barely hanging onto the edge of his bed, and Dimitri swears he sees a glimpse of a silver dagger beneath it. There are also a few papers here and there, some of which he instantly recognises as assignments or notes. At least Claude’s uniform is properly folded on his dresser, somewhat.

“Watch your step, Mitya, I wouldn’t want you falling for me,” Claude says with a chuckle as he sets the teapot down on the last free space of his dresser, and swiftly throws in a few tea leaves. When Claude sees him still waiting at the door- face flushed a deep red and shoulders tense- he sighs and rolls his eyes. “I’m just kidding, Mitya. Relax. Come on in, sit and make yourself at home.” Sure, _but where?_

While Claude starts cleaning and stacking the books on his desk to make space for the ones on his floor and such, Dimitri steps inside and quietly closes the door behind. He takes great care not to step on anything as he struggles his way to Claude’s bed. He picks up some books and sits down on the tiny, clear space he made for himself.

Most of the books in his hands are obviously from the library, but he also holds one or two he does not recognise, and another that is written in a completely different language. Almyran is what Claude called it the last time if he remembers correctly?

When Claude comes to collect the books on his bed and takes the ones Dimitri holds, he feels Claude’s hand deliberately brush over his own. It lingers there only for a moment.

Once Claude has, to some degree, managed to organize all his papers and books on his desk, he walks to his dresser and pulls out a fine but simple tea set from one of the cabinets. He pours tea into both cups and hands one to Dimitri. Claude sits down next to him.

“It’s Chamomile. Good for headaches, sleeplessness and such,” Claude says, staring into his own cup, “helps you relax. But I’m sure you know that. It’s your favourite after all.” Dimitri only hums in agreement, and decides to break his gaze away from Claude to the fragile porcelain in his hands. Even if Claude doesn’t care all that much if he breaks it, he still wants to avoid ruining something that belonged to his… lover.

Yes, he thinks, that sounds about right.

They drink in silence. Dimitri is afraid to hear the voices of his friends and family crash down on him again with nothing to drone them out. But his head stays surprisingly quiet. Dimitri unconsciously relaxes and continues to sip his tea in peace.

Once Claude’s cup is empty, he sets it down on his night stand, and fishes through the upper drawer. He takes out a bandage roll, a small cloth and a flask of pure alcohol-

_\- wait._ How did Claude even get tha-_ never mind_. Dimitri_ **doesn’t want to know.**_

“Finish your tea and then give me your cup,” Claude says and waits patiently for Dimitri to drink the last drops of tea. Dimitri hands him the cup and rolls up the sleeve of his bleeding arm. Claude puts it atop his own on the nightstand, and then grabs both the cloth and alcohol. “Give me your arm.” He complies.

There are four spots of broken skin on his forearm and another one on the underside. Now he’s sure that he did it himself. There’s no denying the fact that if he laid his hand on top of those marks that his fingers would fit perfectly over each one. From the way Claude hesitates before he dabs at the wounds with the alcohol-soaked cloth shows Dimitri that he knows too.

Dimitri cringes when his wounds flare and burn from the alcohol, but he doesn’t pull away. Claude’s grip is gentle on his wrist as he dabs away at the open flesh on Dimitri’s arm and wipes off the dried blood. After he’s satisfied with his work, he puts the cloth and alcohol away, and wraps the bandage around Dimitri’s arm.

The candle flickers out.

Their eyes meet, and Dimitri will never get tired over the bright light that shines within them, that soothes his soul, that makes his heart race. Claude’s fingers slide from Dimitri’s wrist to his hand, and he silently intertwines them. Dimitri leans in and so does Claude, eyes fluttering shut when their lips meet.

They’re far more experienced now than the last time they did this. After their incident on the training grounds Dimitri was always far too embarrassed to do anything beyond chaste kisses. But not anymore.

He wastes no time and pulls Claude closer by the waist. Claude responds by grabbing onto Dimitri’s shoulder and nipping at his bottom lip, to which Dimitri groans. Feeling himself getting bolder in the heat of the moment, Dimitri licks Claude’s bottom lip in return and is rewarded with a small moan.

Claude hesitantly pulls away.

“Stay with me tonight.”

Dimitri only manages a nod before he leans in to kiss Claude again, this time harder, hungrier. He feels Claude smile as they fall back towards the bed, and this time Claude’s head hits the soft pillow instead of the hard floor. Claude throws his arms around Dimitri’s neck and pulls him closer. Dimitri lets him.

It ends with him in Claude’s bed- in Claude’s arms. He falls asleep before Claude does, listening to him hum an ever so familiar tune as he holds Dimitri close. Dimitri doesn’t dream this time, doesn’t hear their voices.

No.

He wakes peacefully for the first time in 4 years, with Claude’s warm body draped over him. And Dimitri would not have it any other way.

In truth it is only a new beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever just? Miscalculate so hard you accidentally kissed someone? No? You should try it.
> 
> Really, I have nothing to say for myself. My brain also told me to make them fuck but I gotta draw a line somewhere. Thanks brain.
> 
> P.S.: Sylvain and Hilda are the untold wingmen of this story.
> 
> Edit: I corrected a few words, and played around with the formatting. Beside that everything stayed the same though. My excuse is that I wrote this thing through multiple nights, was too tired to revise it (again) and published it at 1am or something.


End file.
